


If Wishes Were Fishes

by ChapstickLez



Series: Fishverse [1]
Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChapstickLez/pseuds/ChapstickLez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season one with a lesbian twist. Was Maura kidding when she said “wishes do come true” and what WAS her wish anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Wishes Were Fishes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not Tess Gerritsen, but thank you to her and TNT for the show Rizzoli & Isles. Now go watch the show. And buy the DVDs.

What the hell did that mean? “Wishes do come true,” Maura had said, lounging in Jane’s bed with a glass of red wine. Jane had made a passing remark to the concept of ‘going gay’ and Maura’s flippant reply was stuck in her head. “Wishes do come true.” Of course, then she’d stated, boldly, that Jane wasn’t her type. Too bossy. Which didn’t help the confusion in Jane’s head at all.

She was a cop. A homicide cop. A tomboy who liked to play rough with her brothers. The only daughter of a traditional Southie Boston Italian family. Hardly a week went by where someone didn’t make a crack about her being gay anyway. She’d lived with the accusations all her life, and when Korsak and Frost came up with the idea of Jane going undercover at a lesbian bar, she wasn’t annoyed with them. After all, her former and current partners were two of the only detectives who’d never made gay jokes. The just treated her like Jane Rizzoli: capable of anything.

And then there was Maura, who had joined in the boys in their plot, even after Jane had said no, and filled out an online dating profile. For women. If anyone else had helped them, Jane would have been actually angry. Instead, she found herself strangely flattered and enchanted to find out how Maura had filled out her profile. It was amusing to learn that Korsak had wanted to call her ‘fine’, and Frost thought she was ‘butch’, but Maura insisted on ‘Sporty.’

There was another thing. Maura. She thought of the men at work by their last names. Korsak, Frost, Crowe, even their former lieutenant, Grant, whom she’d known in school and had every right to call Joey. But Maura was always Maura. She only called her ‘Dr. Isles’ when they were all being formal, or she needed to catch Maura’s attention. The same as calling her parents by their given names.

That night, she’d been prepared for being flirted with women, which was an interesting experience. It wasn’t uncomfortable at all, nor was it the first time Jane had ever been hit on by women. What had been awkward was what Maura wore. The dress wasn’t her normal style. Low cut wasn’t hugely abnormal, but the borderline tackiness and the in your face breasts had … Okay, the breasts were what had caught Jane’s attention. Twice. They were nice breasts.

Looking at her ancient coffee maker as it creaked along, Jane scowled. “Okay, Jo,” she said to the dog, curled up on her doggie bed after their morning jog. “I make a crack about going gay and she says wishes do come true. Then I say I’d be the guy, and she says I’m too bossy. And not her type. Which means she has a type of woman. Which means she’s thought about all this before.” Jo whined slightly and Jane squatted to scratch her. “We hang out all the time. She talked me into yoga and running. She tries to get me to date uber-feminine Jorge, and tells me sex releases whatever-they-ares to fight off colds. I went to fucking yoga with her.”

There were too many contradictions. Did Maura just want her to be happy? Entirely possible. Was Maura hitting on her? Impossible to tell. Maura certainly went out on dates with men. Hell, she’d been serious about the rich boy years ago. Then again, she’d turned on him, and informed Jane “I’ve got your back.” Later on, Korsak admitted he’d explained the Southie concept to Maura, and Jane could have kissed him.

The coffee finished brewing and Jane downed half of her first cup. “She’s got my back.” Maura had it last night, too. Keeping tabs on her, handling all the evidence. All the useless evidence. They hadn’t found anything of use yet. Drumming her fingers on the kitchen counter, Jane ran through all the suspects in her mind. If it wasn’t one of the dates who had killed their vic, then it went back to the most obvious. The spouse. But how?

That was something only Maura could answer.

Jane found herself looking forward far too much to talking to Maura in the lab.

* * *

When Jane had come into the morgue and asked Maura to swab her neck, it filled Maura with conflict. Maura had, at the time, quickly analyzed her feelings about Jane when she deduced where the sample had come from and how. She was jealous. Jealous that Jane went back to the Merch on her own. Jealous that another person had kissed Jane. It was just science and evidence and the job. It should, in no way, make her feel this way.

Watching the sample spin in the MassSpec, Maura went over her facts.

Fact: Maura found Jane attractive.

Fact: Jane had evidenced signs of attraction at the Merch last night.

Fact: Jane did poorly dating men.

Fact: Maura was jealous of other people kissing Jane.

The facts were not enough for a working theory just yet. If Jane had been gay, or even openly bisexual, it would have been easier to determine what the situation was. Were they friends or were Jane’s feelings reciprocal to Maura’s? It would be presumptuous to assume Jane had never slept with a women. Most women had the ability to be sexually attracted to a person rather than to a specific gender. Maura knew she was no exception, and had dated both men and women, with roughly the same level of success, or lack there of.

The MassSpec beeped and Maura reflexively tapped out the code to print the results. She didn’t have to concentrate on the science just now, which left her mind to dwell on the personal. This was not her forte. Jane was the people person. Jane was clearly strong and protective, traits Maura looked for in partners. She was also sensitive and caring, though that was not an aspect of her personality many people outside her family ever got to see.

Of everyone at the station, Korsak knew Jane the best, except for Frankie Jr. of course. Lately, Maura had mentioned bits of Jane’s life that had caught Vince by surprise, which made Maura wonder why Jane was trusting her with that sort of information. Vince had saved Jane’s life, but Jane unburdened herself to only Maura. Clearly they were friends. Perhaps best friends, though Maura was uncertain what that actually meant.

Perhaps it would be more beneficial to determine what she wanted. Maura wanted to spend time with Jane, as it made her happy. She wanted Jane to share her happiness. She wanted Jane to feel loved and fulfilled. Clearly that wasn’t happening with Lt. Grant or Jorge. Or Agent Dean. It would be easier if Jane was just direct about what she wanted. She didn’t want a sensitive man to talk about her feelings with, or she’d be gay. But she did say she’d ‘flip’ for Celtic tickets. Maybe Red Sox tickets would work?

“I wonder if Jane’s bisexual,” mused Maura aloud.

The door opened a second later and Jane popped in. “Test results?”

Feeling her skin flush, Maura pulled the paper off the printer and skimmed it. How long had Jane been standing out there, watching her? Jane looked at her quite often these days, and had been arrested by Maura’s attire the night before. “Just now,” she told Jane, keeping her voice even. “Oh.”

Jane quickly walked up to look at the results, upside down. “Good oh? Bad oh? Oh, Jane you’re a genius who solved the crime?”

It was impossible not to smile at Jane’s confidence. Maura gave her the good news.

* * *

“The drinks here are defiantly better than the Merch,” declared Jane, enjoying her beer in her regular booth at the Dirty Robber. “The music’s better, the company is better. The …” She faltered, looking for the word.

“Ambiance,” filled in Maura, and Jane pointed her bottle at the woman across the table. That was the word she was looking for. “Actually, The Merch was using a higher quality of alcohol than is generally found here. They had a cabernet-” Maura stopped when Jane glared at her. It was endearing that Maura launched into GoogleSpeak, but not tonight. They’d solved the case, it was time to celebrate.

Korsak chuckled, sitting in a chair at the head of the booth. “Dr. Isles was watering down your drinks.”

Coughing on her drink, Jane spluttered. “Maura!”

The Queen of the Dead blushed a little. “Vince thought if you got drunk and anything happened, you’d blame him.”

“Don’t put this on me, Doc,” laughed Korsak, waving his hands in denial.

As Frost eased into the booth next to Jane, she shot a glare at him. “Were you in on this too?” Jane demanded of her partner.

Frost had the wit to point at Korsak. “He said if you got drunk undercover, the lieutenant would kill us. I said you could handle your drink.”

“He wanted you to be listed as butch on the website,” retorted Korsak, pointing at Frost.

“Oh my god,” groaned Jane. “My partner, my ex-partner, are all conspiring against me!” She pulled from her beer and groused at Maura, “What’s your excuse?”

Hesitating a little, Maura finally confessed, “I thought with a potential killer as your date, you should be more alert.”

At least Maura’s reason was good. As the boys started to fight, Jane kicked them out of the booth, “That’s it, if you two are going to fight like girls, go get your own booth!” She shoved Frost out and kicked Korsak’s chair until they both left. Had Jane not glanced back at Maura, she might never have noticed the pained expression on her friend’s face. “Hey, Maura, sweetie, sorry. I’m not mad at you.”

When Maura didn’t say anything, Jane reached across the table and gently touched her hand. Maura twitched and blurted, “Why do you say that?”

“Said what?” asked Jane, leaning back flummoxed.

“That Barry and Vince are fighting like girls.”

Jane stared at Maura, confused. “Because … they are.”

Maura pursed her lips and then picked up her bag. “I’m going home,” she announced, and got up. The wine glass was half empty.

What the hell was going on? Jane threw down money to cover their drinks as Maura stormed out the door. “What’d you do to piss off the doc?” asked Korsak, daring to come back after his eviction.

“Hell if I know,” growled Jane, pulling on her coat and abandoning her own beer to chase after Maura. She was halfway to the parking lot when Jane realized that she had no idea what she was doing. “Maura, wait up!”

The coroner made impressively good time in her heels, and had she not been arguing with her car keys, Jane would have never caught up. “Jane, I’m going home,” she repeated, angrily. It seemed Maura was having trouble getting her car to unlock.

Quietly, Jane took the keys out of Maura’s hands and pressed the door unlock button for her. She held the keys back out to Maura, saying nothing, but Maura just stared at her. “I’m angry and I want to go home,” Maura finally said, her jaw set. But she made no move to get in her car, even when Jane gestured for her to do so.

“I’m not stoping you, Maur,” Jane pointed out, and stepped back, arms held out. Still, Maura didn’t move. “Why’re you mad?”

“I’m not mad, I’m angry with you.”

Jane frowned and tried to sort that out. She couldn’t come up with a reason why Maura would be mad at her. After all, Jane had been ribbing on Korsak and Frost, and backing up Maura. There was nothing she could think of to say about why Maura was angry. But. “Studies have shown that driving when you’re angry or upset is more dangerous and less fuel efficient than driving drunk.”

Maura’s mouth worked for a little while, but no sound came out. “Well, yes,” she agreed, flustered, and launched into a more technical explanation about the perils of night time driving while angry.

As Maura went on, Jane found herself smiling. “So why’re you so angry at me you’re willing to put yourself in mortal danger? You’ll just call me to pick you up, only the cops will write you up and it’ll just be a huge fucking mess.”

“Language, Jane,” Maura remarked, seemingly out of reflex. She too was smiling a little.

Jane spread her hands out, palms up. “Give, Isles.”

The smile on Maura’s face faded. “Why do you have to make being a girl an insult?”

Jane blinked. “I what?” Her mind whirled back over the day until it landed on the bar altercation, “What? Korsak and Frost?” Maura nodded, very slightly, very controlled. Sighing, Jane put one hand on her hip and pinched the bridge of her nose with the other. “Jesus, Maura. It’s just ribbing with the guys.”

Again the comment was simple. “Language.”

Christ! The woman was infuriating. “Maura, they were acting like a pair of teenaged girls! Pointing fingers, bickering! It’s like Ma and her sister.”

While Maura’s expression didn’t soften, her lips quirked a little. Probably she was envisioning two Angela Rizzolis. “You made it sound like acting like a girl is a bad thing,” Maura pointed out.

Jane blew out a breath, almost spluttering, “No, being Korsak or Frost is a bad thing. They’re idiots.” She pushed onward, before Maura could interrupt. “I didn’t say thank you.” Maura quirked her eyebrows and tilted her head. “For the online profile.”

Now Maura looked confused. “You’re welcome,” she managed, as if it was the safe answer.

Smile, Jane explained, “You cared enough about me to make sure I wouldn’t get embarrassed with the kind of girls who hit on me.” Maura made a little ‘O’ with her face and then smiled brightly. “And for coming with me.”

“You made me,” Maura pointed out.

“You could have said no.” Silently, Maura nodded, agreeing to Jane’s point. “There’s nothing wrong with being girly. I like girly. I mean, not on me, but it looks great on you.” Again, Maura twitched. Definitely there was something going on in that scientific little head. Jane decided her morning theory was on the ball. “Do you want to come over and talk?”

Maura hesitated and then shook her head. “No. No thank you. I think I want to go home.”

“Okay,” agreed Jane. “You safe to drive?”

Now Maura smiled. “I’m not angry with you any longer, if that’s what you mean.”

Jane grinned and held up her hand, thumb and forefinger a hair’s breath apart. “Not at all.” And she did wait until Maura had cleared the block before getting into her own car and going home.

Most definitely, Maura was into her. There was no point trying to wonder when that happened. They were friends who all but lived in each other’s back pockets. The only thing left was to decide if Jane was going to just ignore it or do something about it. Decades of tying to ignore the stereotype of the gay detective, Jane was hesitant at the idea of diving head long into it. Except that it  **was**  Maura.

At home, Jo was bouncing and ready for attention, so Jane tore a leaf of lettuce for her baby tortoise, checked his water, and then took Jo out to enjoy the surprisingly warm spring night. She was going to be running the Boston Marathon soon, with Maura, and while Jane didn’t really favor the idea of the milage, she’d enjoyed running with Maura. And there that was again. Jo bounced around and Jane smiled at the dog.

“Uncle Korsak’s an ass, but I like you, Jo,” she told her dog, who yipped back at her. Since it wasn’t like she was going to do anything else that night, Jane cut through the park to the dog run and let Jo run up and down a few times. They played fetch the stick, chase the ball, and Jane laughed as the scruffy puppy flipped over trying to catch the ball off a particularly weird bounce.

By the time they were on their way home, the scruff-monster was worn out and Jane ended up carrying her. “You should just be glad no one’s here to see this, Jo. I’d never live it down.” Jo licked her face by way of reply, and then draped her head over Jane’s shoulder. The dog was a comfort, in much the same way as the tortoise was. They both represented friends Jane would kill to keep. Not that she’d ever tell Korsak that. She might tell Maura, except Maura would look affronted.

“Come on, I’m not carrying you up the stairs,” she informed Jo, and put her down to pick up the mail. Jo barked once and bolted up the stairs, leaving Jane to curse and run after her. In no way was she surprised to see that the reason for Jo’s excitement was Maura, who was staring at Jane’s door with a conflicted expression.

Jane smirked, scooped Jo back up and opened her door, before Maura could come up with something to say. “You comin’ in, Maur?”

* * *

The first thing Maura could think of to say was nothing she’d been contemplating in her car. “Jane! That lettuce leaf is much too big!” She immediately walked over to the terrarium and tore the leaf up into smaller bits.

“Aw, he likes it that way! He growls when he eats,” Jane objected, freshening up Jo’s water and food.

Maura frowned at Jane who rolled her eyes. The rest of the cage was, impressively, clean and well kept. The water was fresh and the right temperature, the layout was perfect. “Jane, this is … wonderful. How did you know to do all this?”

“Bought a book,” declared Jane, pointing at her shelf vaguely, and then rummaged through her fridge and cabinets.

The book was a well written one that Maura owned herself. “How did- You saw the book on my shelf.” Of course she did. Jane was a detective. She payed attention. Jane tapped her nose and held the bottle of red wine out to Maura. It was the same one she’d been drinking two nights ago.

Jane had two glasses, no beer this time, a wedge of cheese and some crackers. “It’s not fancy, but I need to go shopping.”

“You always need to go shopping,” sighed Maura, but she sat on the couch.

“I’m always working,” countered Jane, pouring a generous portion of wine into each of their glasses.

“So am I. And you have your mother cooking for you all the time.”

Jane sipped the wine and then blinked at it, “Wow, this is good, Maura!” She took another healthy swallow, “If you want Ma cooking for you all the time, just tell her you don’t have time to shop.”

Thinking about that for a moment, Maura tried to decide if Jane was saying that she actually enjoyed her mother cooking and fussing over her, or if she hated it. People were difficult. “I’ll keep that in mind,” murmured Maura.

Now that she’d actually gotten here, Maura wasn’t quite sure where she wanted to go. After she’d left the bar, she just wanted to storm home and not think about any of this. But Jane had chased after her, talked to her, calmed her down, made her laugh, and then just let her go on her way, once she was sure Maura was okay. She wanted to be sure Maura would be alright. It was flattering and made Maura feel warm inside.

After driving halfway back to Brookline, Maura had given into impulse and turned around. All she was able to think about was Jane, and it was ridiculous to not just tell Jane how she felt. Jane had no problem with women being attracted to her, and she showed evidence of being attracted to Maura. It would be best if Maura just went to her apartment, told Jane she found her attractive, and that she’d like to have a more physical relationship. Simple, direct. Easy.

While she had a key to Jane’s apartment, Maura had knocked and, when there was no answer, was torn between using the key and thinking that, perhaps, Jane didn’t want to see her. Before she got too far into a neurosis fed spiral of despair, Jane had appeared with Jo, and simply asked if she was coming inside.

Maura swallowed and put the glass of wine down. “Jane, I want to talk to you about us,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.

Jane paused, the glass halfway to her lips, and stared at Maura. “Okay.” She put her glass down as well and sat back on the couch.

These things were much easier in her head, thought Maura. She wasn’t quite sure where to start, and finally said just that. “I don’t know where to start.”

With a soft smile, Jane put one hand on Maura’s leg. “Pops always said getting started was the hard part,” she agreed. “How about I go first?” Not knowing where Jane was going, Maura just nodded. “Okay, so I was totally jealous over you and Garrett. I thought that if you got a taste of that life again, you’d leave us.  _Me_. And I didn’t want to lose you.”

The hand on Maura’s leg twitched, squeezing her thigh very slightly. Maura looked down and at the scar on the back on Jane’s hand. Without looking at Jane, Maura covered Jane’s hand with her own. “I wouldn’t leave you. I’ve got your back.” Now she looked up and saw that crooked, smirking, smile.

“I know. And I think… What I’m tryin’ to say, Maura, is I think I get what you meant the other night.”

The scientist never stopped being a scientist. The detective never stopped being the detective. Just as she was sure Jane was searching her face for a reaction, Maura was analyzing Jane’s eyes, mouth and nose. They all indicated signs of sexual attraction. Maura swallowed again, her mouth dry, and decided to just say it, when Jane’s cellphone played the theme to the Twilight Zone. “It’s your mother,” Maura said, stupidly. She could have kicked herself for being so obvious.

Jane didn’t move toward her phone. “I’ll call her back.”

Maura didn’t hesitate again, “The other night, when I said you weren’t my type, what I meant was-” The phone started ringing again.

This time they both looked at it. Jane growled a curse, grabbed the phone, and turned it off. “Actually … I don’t know what you meant with that, but I think I get what you meant when you said wishes do come true.”

So Jane heard that. Maura turned bright pink. “Do they?” she asked, in a whisper.

“I thought about it all day,” admitted Jane.

“Oh,” managed Maura. “I find I’m having a harder time that I expected.” It was all so much easier in her head.

This time the house phone rang. “Goddamnit, Ma,” snarled Jane, jumping up and snatching the phone off the hook. “Ma, someone better be dead!”

Maura leant back against the couch and pressed the backs of her hands to her cheeks, while Jane argued with her mother that being out of cheese was not an emergency, and no, she was not going to pick it up right now and come over. “I should go,” she said, as Jane told her mother that Maura was over.

Catching Jane’s attention, Maura lifted a hand, trying to indicate she could leave, but Jane pointed at her and clearly wanted Maura to stay put. “She’s fine, Ma, we’re just talking. What? No, not about you. Maura was … Art. And beauty, y’know? Like how awesome a double play is when the shortstop catches it on one bounce?” Maura looked up at Jane, surprised at the reference to the other day’s conversation. “You know Maura, Ma. She likes hand-stitched sweaters and hand crafted shoes. Called me a philistine the other day, so I was telling her that I appreciate stuff too.” Jane paused, looking confused, “Oh, sure, like spring at the Old Harbor.”

The only way to hide her smile was to cover her mouth, and as soon as Maura did that, Jane gave her a puppy dog look. After assuring her mother everyone was fine, Jane hung up the phone, and took an extra moment to turn the ringer off. “How did you know about driving angry?” wondered Maura.

“Your mind has the weirdest paths,” Jane replied, exasperated. “ _Mythbusters_.” At Maura’s surprised look, Jane shrugged again, “Science and stuff that blows up.” Jane sat on the arm of the couch and reached over towards Maura, gently cupping her chin in one hand. Maura leant against Jane’s warm hand, looking up at her.

“I was trying to come up with a better way to tell you I’m attracted to you,” admitted Maura at last.

Jane looked startled. “That was a pretty, uh, direct way.” She didn’t move her hand, and Maura smiled. “I figured that out.” She brushed her thumb on Maura’s cheek. “I had to figure me out too, is all.”

Just enjoying it for a moment, Maura reached up and covered Jane’s hand with her own. “All the other women last night made me jealous,” blurted Maura, and Jane got that smirking smile on her face. “You’re laughing at me!”

Jane squeezed Maura’s hand and got up. “Maybe a little.” She walked over to her tortoise and reached in, pushing a leaf closer to the little guy. Maura was used to the fact that Jane was filled with nervous energy, and that she often displayed a restless quality when faced with an uncomfortable situation.

In no way did Maura want to make Jane uncomfortable. “What did you name him?” she asked, attempting to defuse the detective.

Hesitating, Jane looked at Maura almost shyly. “Watson.”

“Watson? After Alexander Graham Bell’s lab assistant?”

“Naw, after Dr. Watson. You know, Sherlock Holmes’ sidekick?”

The connection was easy to make. Jane was a detective, Maura was a doctor. Of course. “That’s adorable,” grinned Maura. Giving an ‘Aw, shucks’ shrug in return, Jane ambled back to the couch. “Do you want to sit down?”

Jane shrugged again, “I’m not really sure what to do now.”

Maura patted the couch and Jane slowly sat back down. She wasn’t hesitant, just nervous. So was Maura, but for other reasons. “Does it bother you that I do?”

Exhaling loudly, Jane pressed a hand to her forehead and leant back on the couch. “God, Maura. I don’t know.” She chewed her lower lip. “No,” Jane said, definitively. She was certain.

Over the time Maura had known Jane, she had grown accustomed to her behavior and patterns. Jane would often hesitate and then charge, much like certain animals in the African Savannah. Wisely, Maura decided not to mention this. Less wisely, she found she was unable to explain her own bisexuality except in somewhat clinical terms. Alright, entirely too scientific terms, if Maura was to judge by Jane’s bemused facial expression. “I don’t suppose I should explain the Kinsey Scale?” she asked, running out of steam.

“Yeah, no. We can save Kinsey for another time,” agreed Jane, still smiling. Her eyes were dark and amused.

“When I get nervous…”

“You babble, I’ve noticed. It’s cute.”

Maura beamed happily at the idea that Jane thought she was cute. “You display your emotions much more physically,” Maura reciprocated. Jane arched her eyebrows, displaying a look of both amusement and tolerance. Too much science? Sometimes it was hard to discern.

Jane’s arm dropped to cover the back of the couch and she extended her fingers. “Yeah, I do,” she admitted, and pushed herself forward, towards Maura. The action was much the same in mating behaviors of many animals. Initiating nearness was a sign of welcoming intimacies. Maura kept her expression controlled and leant forward slightly as well. On the couch, Jane’s fingers twitched, made a fist, and then spread out again as they leant closer.

This time, there was no ringing phone, no knock at the door, no dog barking. Their lips touched, a very careful, almost tentative kiss. Jane didn’t move to put her arms around Maura, or her hands anywhere, so Maura kept her own in her lap. She knew she was clutching her own hands, but if she didn’t, they would have been all over Jane, and that would be too much, too fast. Just like feeding a shy goat. The image of Jane as a goat, falling over with her legs straight out because she was scared, made Maura smile, which broke the kiss up.

Jane leant away, her skin flushed. “Wow,” she said softly. “That was… One of the finer things in life your always after me to appreciate.” Maura giggled and covered her mouth. “That was really, really, cheesy, god. I’m sorry, Maur.”

“It’s okay,” promised Maura, putting one hand on Jane’s near thigh.

“Just okay?” Jane’s voice was lower, more rich than normal. She leant forward again, this time with her hand reaching to Maura’s shoulder.

The second kiss was better. With Jane’s hand on her shoulder, fingers touching Maura’s hair, it was far more sensual. She could feel the heat coming off Jane’s arms, and as they kissed, Jane slid ever so slightly closer to Maura, so they were just barely pressing against each other. Much, much better. Except that when they stopped again, Maura sighed.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” she sighed, leaning against Jane. She felt Jane stiffen and quickly reviewed what she just said. “No, that’s not what I meant.” Maura squeezed Jane. “I don’t want to stop,” she tried to explain.

Jane relaxed a little. “You gotta think about how it sounds before you say it, Maur,” said Jane, affectionately, gently stroking Maura’s hair.

“I was thinking more about how it felt,” Maura admitted. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.” She pressed the side of her head against Jane’s shoulder and could hear the blood running through her carotid artery.

Jane’s body relaxed a little more. “What do we do now?” she asked, leaning back on the couch and bringing Maura with her. They settled into a comfortable position, with Jane acting as Maura’s pillow.

“We take it slow,” suggested Maura, as she wound a lock of Jane’s hair around one finger. Jane sighed, pleasantly.

Leaning her cheek against Maura’s hand, Jane suggested, “So just the same as we’ve been doing? Except with kissing?” Hopefully more than kissing, eventually. But that was a start. “I can do slow.” Jane’s arm rested on Maura’s back, gently rubbing it. “So you’ve dated women before, huh?”

Maura froze a little. Truth. It wasn’t like she was able to lie anyway. “Yes. At school and in university.”

Jane made a thoughtful noise. “Did you diagnose them too?”

“Did I what?” The thought startled Maura out of her nerves.

“Diagnose them. Tell them what terrible diseases they have. Scare them off.” When Maura didn’t reply, Jane started laughing. “Oh my god, you did. Hey, wait! How come you never did that to me?” Jane tried to sit up a little, which was tricky under Maura’s weight.

Sighing, Maura took hold of one of Jane’s hands, running a finger down the scar on her palm. “Hypertophic cicatrices. Scar tissue. You already knew what was wrong.” The movement seemed to catch Jane by surprise, and while she stiffened a little, she didn’t yank her hands away like she did on so many other occasions.

They had met not terribly long after Jane had returned to work after Hoyt had kidnapped her. Korsak had still been her partner. Frost hadn’t transferred over yet. Frankie hadn’t even joined the force yet. It was a different time. She remembered when Jane had sat with her, at the Dirty Robber, telling her for the first time what had happened. At some point, they’d moved to Jane’s apartment, where Maura listened to some of the more horrific details. A friendship had grown. And now it was something more again.

“So you’re saying I’m special,” teased Jane. They both giggled.

Sneaking a hand out, Maura looked at her watch. “It’s late. We should go to bed.”

“That’s a little fast, Maur,” Jane remarked, a slight edge to her voice. Sardonic.

“You’re teasing me.”

“Maybe.”

Maura reached up and caressed Jane’s cheek, running her thumb across the bones, then Jane’s lips and finally her chin. “You have a very pleasing face.”

“You have weird pillow talk.”

It wasn’t the first time Maura had heard that complaint, though somehow Jane made it sound complimentary. Maura turned so she was leaning on her side, and kicked off her heels. It was interesting that Jane was so comfortable to lie on, even though she had a minimum of body fat. Jane settled herself into the corner of the couch, her arms loosely draped around Maura, and her body posture both relaxed and tense.

Picking up one of Jane’s hands, Maura turned it over in her own and started to gently massage Jane’s wrist. “Do they hurt?” She ran one finger across the scar on the back of Jane’s hand.

Jane shifted a little, a ripple of tenseness running through her body. “Sometimes. Like when the weather changes.”

“Pressure shifts affect the blood flow, which when it increases too rapidly–” Maura was cut off when Jane brought her hand up to her mouth and kissed it. Winding their fingers together, they sat on the couch in the silence. “My dress has a wrinkle,” Maura finally admitted.

Barking a laugh, Jane squeezed Maura’s hand and pushed her up. “You are such a girly girl,” smiled Jane as she unfolded herself off the couch. “Come on, I’ll find you something to wear.”

Maura had spent the night enough to know that Jane preferred pajama bottoms and tank-tops. “So long as I can hang up my dress,” she sighed, and followed Jane into the bedroom.

“My closet is your closet,” Jane remarked, and started to dig through her dresser. A pair of fairly new pajama bottoms came out and, a few moments later, a matching top. “Here you go.”

The pajama set was cotton, like much of Jane’s clothes, but far less worn than her normal attire. “You have sets?”

“They’re all sets. Ma gives me new ones every birthday and Christmas. Pop always throws in some tank tops, so I can sleep.” Jane locked her gun and badge in her nightstand, and pulled out a tank top and bottoms for herself. She caught Maura’s eye, “I can’t sleep with long sleeves,” she explained.

As Jane vanished into her bathroom, Maura thought about all the times she’d slept here, or Jane at her house. Only once, when Hoyt’s apprentice had been after her, had Jane slept in long sleeves, and really, she’d slept in a hooded sweatshirt. Psychologically, that was probably more about being scared than it was comfort in sleeping.

“Bathroom’s all yours,” announced Jane, returning dressed in what passed for pajamas. “I’m going to turn off the lights and make sure Watson’s okay.”

The pajamas were surprisingly comfortable, much in the same way that Jane herself was. They even smelled a little bit of Jane, which circumvented Maura’s rational mind and went right into her lizard brain. Maura got into the right side of the bed, her side, and slid under the blankets, pulling her knees up and inhaling. The bed, logically enough, smelled of Jane’s shampoo and soap and inherent Jane-ness. The animalistic part of her psyche wanted to just burrow into the bed and rub the smell all over her.

A few moments later, Jane came back in, followed by Jo, who looked at Maura and went back out. “Do you think she’s mad?” wondered Maura.

“Nah, she has to patrol. She’ll walk around the whole place a few times, and then come to bed.” Sliding into bed, Jane stretched out and yawned. “You’re right. Bed. Good idea.” The light went off, and Jane curled up on her side, both hands shoved under the pillow. “Night, Maur.”

“Good night, Jane,” Maura whispered, lying down and watching Jane.

She wondered if Jane slept with her hands under the pillow because of Hoyt. She wondered if Jane was thinking about sharing pajamas. She wondered if Jane could smell Maura’s shampoo and it was making her think of Maura.

* * *

It was the smell that woke Jane up first. Someone was cooking. “Ma?” she asked, blearily, trying to sort out why her arm was pinned. There was hair tickling her face. She was in a pink bed. Jane exhaled and looked at the light-brown hair, nestled against her chest, and smiled. They were at her parents’ house, in Jane’s room.

After the marathon, Angela had insisted they come back to the Rizzoli house for dinner. Maura had looked so delighted at the invitation, Jane was putty, and agreed right away. Naturally her mother had whipped up a calorie laden Italian meal fit to put positive conditioning in rocks, let alone a skinny cop. Maura hadn’t been any better, telling Jane which foods would be best to eat to replenish after the race. Naturally, this delighted Angela, who took the opportunity to chastise Jane on her irregular eating habits.

For once, though, Frankie was pressed into cleaning instead of Jane, who had fallen asleep on the couch with Maura, and woken up to her father suggesting they take a shower and go to bed. Jane objected, saying she wanted to go home, but Maura, siding with the Rizzoli parents again, pointed out that she was tired, and driving tired was more dangerous than driving angry. Once again, she turned Jane to malleable putty.

Jane wondered how obvious it was to the rest of the family. No one said anything, though. Not even when Jane insisted Maura sleep in her room, not Frankie’s. “God knows what life forms are breeding in there,” Jane pointed out, and Maura looked horrified as Frank detailed the number of times he’d been forced to haul bags of trash out of Frankie’s room, until, at last, Frankie said he was spending the night, and would they please stop slagging his room.

No questions asked, Maura could squeeze into the pink canopy bed in Janie’s room.

Since Jane had crashed at her parents house numerous times after moving out, she kept spare clothes that she’d actually wear in the dresser. Gone were the frilly things her mother had foisted on her, and instead some jeans, t-shirts and, of course, spare pajamas. Maura borrowed a set of long since forgotten Christmas pajamas and looked adorable. Once they were in Jane’s room, with the door closed, Jane had found it impossible to not kiss her.

Having her parents in the house hadn’t killed the mood as much as their exhaustion, which when coupled with the fact they both had to go back to work in the morning, had them curled up in the bed quickly. Which was why she had Maura, nestled in her arms, in her childhood bed, in her parents’ house, on a fine, summer morning. Every morning, decided Jane, should be like this.

Maura stirred a little in her sleep, burrowing deeper in bed, and Jane decided that as good as her mother’s breakfast was, this was better. She closed her eyes and wrapped an arm around Maura’s waist, hoping to recapture a little sleep.

There was a knock at the door. “Janie, Maura, are you hungry?”

Wrinkling her face, Maura mumbled something unintelligible. “Up in a minute, Ma,” Jane called back. The door knob rattled, “Ma!”

Thwarted, her mother retreated and Maura sighed, clearly awake now. “Was she going to come in?” asked Maura.

“S’why I locked the door.” She kissed Maura’s neck, which made the doctor sigh happily. “She’ll be back.”

Maura squirmed around until she was facing Jane in the small bed. “I think she’s sweet.” She kissed Jane warmly, and they were easily distracted for a little while.

The door pounded again. “Janie, your mother’s going to be mad about the eggs,” announced Frank. He didn’t stay, and Jane heard pounding at the next door down the hall. Frankie was having a hard time getting up, too, apparently.

Maura slipped out of bed, giggling. “Is it always like this?”

“Always,” sighed Jane, reaching under the bed for slippers. She tossed a pair at Maura, who was peering into Jane’s closet curiously. “Grab me the black hoodie?” It took Maura a moment to sort the request out, but she handed Jane a black sweatshirt, taking an ancient robe for herself. “You look way too cute in my clothes,” sighed Jane.

“Later,” promised Maura, touching Jane’s nose.

Downstairs was a breakfast for a tribe, and Jane and Maura beat Frankie downstairs by mere minutes. This time, Jane was roped into helping her mother pull the hot biscuits out of the oven, which Jane didn’t really mind. The heat on her hands was welcome in the morning, and Jane absently rubbed her palms.

Maura pressed a cup of coffee into her hands, frowning a little. “You said your hands only hurt sometimes,” she said quietly.

“Shhh!” Jane glanced at her mother, who hadn’t heard. “It’s just cold.” She pressed both hands to the mug and sipped the coffee. It had been doctored the way she loved it, and Jane glanced at Maura. “Thanks,” she added, meaningfully.

The family rushed through breakfast, which was good since Jane and Maura’s phones started ringing not long after their first attack on the bacon and eggs. Maura dropped Jane off on her way home to change, and Jane went right into the station in jeans. They had a vague plan of lunch, which was canceled in favor of dinner at Maura’s, which after they finished all the reports, turned out to be a raincheck. As much as Jane wanted to spend time, alone, with Maura, talking, or not talking, it just wasn’t going to happen. Maura managed to duck out a couple hours before Jane, and was disappointed when Jane had called to cancel their plans.

Eventually, luck was with her, as Jane walked out the door, when Lt. Cavanaugh called and told her to take two days off. “And the Mayor wanted to make sure you got these.” Two small boxes and a card, addressed to Dr. Isles and Det. Rizzoli. The card was simple and made Jane smirk. “Can you give Dr. Isles hers?”

“Not a problem, lieutenant,” promised Jane, and she changed her plans once again. The dog walker had taken care of Jo, Watson had some fresh fruit, so Jane tossed some clothes in a bag and made the drive out to Brookline, two small boxes weighing down the pockets of her sweatshirt.

The lights were, thankfully, still on when Jane rang the doorbell. She was pleased to see Maura check the peephole before letting her in, “Jane, is everything alright?” While Jane had thought Maura adorable in Jane’s pajamas, she was even sexier wearing her own silken jammies.

“Cavanaugh gave me tomorrow off.”

Maura took in Jane’s attire and bag and shook her head, smiling. “Did you eat?” At Jane’s sheepish head-shake, Maura shoved Jane towards the kitchen, where they both stood and ate from each other’s leftover Chinese Food takeout from a few days before. Jane teased Maura about her cooking, and Maura admonished Jane for not eating at all.

By midnight, they were lounging on the couch with beer and wine. Maura had pulled Jane’s socks off and was inspecting her blisters. “This should be gross,” remarked Jane, watching how fascinated Maura seemed to be.

“You have cute toes,” Maura replied, running a light touch over them. “And your blister is healing nicely.” Without warning, Maura switched to massaging Jane’s feet, which was heavenly.

“You have a hundred years to stop doing that,” sighed Jane, and she reached into her pocket for the box, offering it up to Maura.

Maura stopped. “A present?” She looked absolutely delighted and reached for it, excited and nervous.

“S’from the mayor,” yawned Jane. The card was a bit mashed. “He said we deserved these even if we didn’t finish.” Jane pulled the other box out of her pocket and opened it, showing the medallion from this year’s marathon.

The look on Maura’s face was incandescent, and she threw her arms around Jane, thrilled as if it was all Jane’s work. “Thank you,” she breathed into Jane’s ear, and squeezed her close.

Jane’s heart pounded as she returned the hug. It was Maura who pulled back first and gently touched Jane’s face. “Maur,” whispered Jane, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. Just being around Maura made Jane feel tingly in a good way, but being with her, alone, in Maura’s living room, was killing her. Was Maura even aware of the effect she had on Jane?

Silently, Maura ran a finger along Jane’s lips and smiled. Oh yeah, she knew. “I’ve been distracted by you all day,” admitted Maura, leaning forward to kiss Jane lightly. “I’ve had the most delightful fantasies about whisking you off to my bedroom and having my way with you.” They kissed again, this time long, and Maura oozed forward until she was lying on Jane.

It took a brief moment of adjustment to get arms and legs in comfortable, sensual positions. Maura’s pajama’d thigh was between Jane’s jean-clad legs and she was clearly in charge of what they were doing. Not that Jane was going to complain. One of them knew what they were doing, and Maura was doing a really good job of turning Jane on, emboldening her to slide her hands up the back of Maura’s top. “God, you’re good at that,” panted Jane, when they came up for air.

Maura smiled and traced her fingers down Jane’s jaw line. “You’re very talented as well,” she said, reassuringly. Her skin was flushed, eyes dark. She was definitely enjoying what they were doing. “What do you want?”

The question was a little surprising, “What? Like out of life or right now?”

Again, Maura kissed her and Jane melted into her arms. “Tonight.” It was hard to concentrate while Maura was kissing her, and took Jane a while to remember she was supposed to answer.

It also took a while to sort out what Maura was really asking. They’d been going slowish for a while. Weeks. Maura had been patient, understanding and seemingly comfortable with Jane’s nerves about the situation. It was just something new. Just sex with your best friend. If Maura had been a guy, they’d have had sex already, for crying out loud. Of course, if Maura had been a guy, Jane probably wouldn’t be here in the first place.

“I want you tonight,” Jane said aloud, surprising herself with the determination in her voice.

Maura brushed Jane’s hair away from her face and said, seriously, “Then we should go to bed.”

* * *

The endorphins achieved by runners’ high were a poor second to those engendered by sexual intimacy, decided Maura. She did not choose to say this out loud, however. While Jane teased her for not having a filter between her brain and her mouth, Maura edited her thoughts a lot of times. Admittedly, part of her brain  _was_  thinking about the various chemical reactions their bodies had gone through. Maura ran a hand across Jane’s bare shoulders and smiled.

“Are you trying to calculate enjoyment based on the amount of sweat?” murmured Jane, her face pillowed on Maura’s chest.

“If I was measuring that, I’d base it on the number of times you said my name, or God’s.”

Jane lifted her head up to regard Maura suspiciously. “Did you just make a joke?” As Maura smiled, Jane grinned. “You did make a joke.” Jane nestled back down against Maura, “Am I squishing you?”

“Not at all,” promised Maura, wrapping her arms around Jane and holding her in place.

Since they had decided to pursue a physical relationship, they had primarily restrained themselves to kissing and what was classically defined as foreplay. Mostly clothed, sometimes in states of partial undress, and occasionally achieving orgasms from frottage. It was arousing and satisfying on some levels, though not all. Of course, that was as intended, since it inspired Jane to be bolder.

After deciding that, yes, they were going to have intercourse, Jane allowed Maura to lead her to Maura’s bedroom. Maura stepped out of her slippers, while Jane had almost shyly removed her sweatshirt and pulled her own socks off with her toes. It was an impressively adorable talent. At first, they went back to a standard: kissing. This was, actually, the first time they’d done so in Maura’s bed, as they usually ended up on a couch.

It was painful, in a delicious sort of way, to take everything so slowly and carefully. Neither woman was a virgin, and Maura was fairly certain Jane wasn’t a stranger to masturbation, so they both knew their own body’s responses. And yet, this was still a first time. Everything had to be taken carefully. There was a lot of tentative touching and exploring, and now Maura was basking in an afterglow that did surpass any adrenalin rush she’d previously sustained.

It would be nice if they just stayed like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, smells mingling, bodies entangled.

“I’m glad we waited till after the race,” Jane sighed. “I never woulda made our training runs.”

“I had thought of that.” She gently ran a hand through Jane’s hair, as Jane started to draw circles on Maura’s stomach and then down to her legs. Very quickly, Maura’s body started to respond to Jane’s attentions. “Jane,” she sighed, warningly.

Jane propped herself up on one elbow and smiled. “Maura,” she replied, and they kissed again. This time was faster, a little more aggressive, but still just as satisfying. “Oh yeah, I’m gonna have a hell of a time makin’ it to morning yoga,” gasped Jane, sprawling out on half the bed.

“Clearly you’ll have to sleep at your own home those nights,” Maura decided, nestling into the pillows. She felt entirely satisfied and satiated. Her limbs were heavy and the idea of moving at all was anathema.

A finger poked her ribs and she opened an eye to see Jane. “You’re gonna withhold sex so I go work out with you?” Maura just smiled and closed her eyes. Jane made a noise and, a moment later, curled up against Maura. “I am so whipped,” she whispered into Maura’s ear. “Yoga, a marathon…”

“Softball, the Dirty Robber.”

They were both whipped.

* * *

It was no easier to sleep with Maura in her living room, with her gun, than it was for Jane to sleep by herself right now. Actually, it wasn’t any easier when Maura was in bed with her, just a bit friendlier. Jo Friday was sitting out with Maura, leaving Jane to a room of silence. It was driving her nuts.

“Goddamnit,” she muttered and sat up, hugging her knees. Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered. Every time she picked up a pen, she remembered. In the streetlamp light illuminated bedroom, Jane stared at the backs of her hands.

The doctor had done an amazing job. “You’ll play the piano like Mozart again in no time,” he had promised. Jane was, at the time, more concerned with being able to write, drive, wipe her own ass, and shoot a gun. It was a year before she even looked at the piano in her parents house.

In that way, the ransacking and destruction of her apartment had been a blessing. They’d destroyed her little upright piano. One more thing Jane didn’t have to look at and think about. One more hallmark to the former Jane Rizzoli.

She knew Korsak, her closest friend on the force, could see the difference. The new Jane kept everyone at arm’s length. Sure, she went out drinking with Frost and the boys, but she didn’t let her guard down with anyone. And then Dr. Maura Isles had shown up and New Jane’s world changed again. She warmed up again. Made friends again. Went back to playing softball with the guys again. But also with Maura.

Maura, who had held Jane while she cried after a nightmare. Maura who set her up on dates, much like her mother, but was also there with a bottle of wine when the date went sour. Like they always did. Maura who kissed her on the couch in Jane’s living room. And Maura’s living room. And bedroom. And there was more than just kissing going on, and that was confusing in and of itself. Maura, who was sitting out in her living room with Jane’s gun, protecting her, so Jane could sleep.

Which Jane was not doing.

She could hear Maura walking around in the living room, then the hallway. Then she was standing in the doorway. “You need to sleep, Jane,” Maura stated, plainly as ever.

It was the only time Maura was plain. “Can’t shut my brain off,” sighed Jane, and she squeezed her knees again. Maura pursed her lips. She seemed torn about something. “It would be worse if you were in here, Maur. Then no one’s awake out there,” she pointed out the door.

Maura looked back over her shoulder, which was when Jane noticed she was still holding the gun. Pointed down, thank god! “I brought some Ambien.”

Jane winced, “No, god! That’s even worse. Dreams  _and_  I can’t wake up.” The doctor had prescribed Ambien after the first time Hoyt had attacked her. One night on the sleep medicine, and Jane knew she’d never be able to take it again.

“I also brought Tylenol-3,” Maura continued, unfazed. “Codeine. It’s a mild narcotic, but given your reactions to Ambien, it would help you sleep, dreamlessly.”

Sometimes it was really nice to have a friend who was a doctor. But as Jane looked up at Maura’s concerned face, she realized something interesting. Sitting there, thinking of Maura, was much more calming and relaxing than anything. “I think I’ll be okay, Maur.”

Suspicious, Maura nodded, and then walked in to kiss Jane’s forehead. “Please sleep,” she said gently, brushing the back of her hand along Jane’s cheek.

After Maura left, Jane curled back up in bed and smiled. When she fell asleep, she was thinking of Maura.

* * *

It had been fifteen minutes, and Jane was still pacing outside of Maura’s house. Maura wondered if Jane knew she was watching, but decided to make nothing of it. “She’s restless, that’s all, Bass,” Maura told her tortoise, who was curled up in his shell, clearly ready for bed. After they’d closed the case, Jane had gone out to dinner with Agent Dean, an event that left Maura frustrated. They had not, as of yet, put any labels or boundaries on their relationship, if that was, indeed, what it was, so strictly speaking, Maura held no claim to Jane’s affections.

The reverse was not, alas, true. Irregardless of her intentions, Jane had Maura’s affections tightly wrapped around her little finger. The colloquialism made no more sense than it had before any practical application, but it sounded like something Jane would say. While Jane, and ostensibly Maura, were free to do what they wanted, Maura had no intentions of dating other men or women at this time.

After another ten minutes, the doorbell rang. Jane had a key, but rarely used it. Neither of them used the key to the other’s home often. “I kissed Dean,” she announced when Maura opened the door.

Maura took a moment to absorb that, and studied Jane’s face. This was not the face of a happy woman, which made Maura think of Jane’s malapropism. Orbital spatula. Maura would have smiled if not for the fact that Frankie had ended up shooting the girl who had made him so, briefly, happy. “Come inside, it’s cold,” Maura said firmly, and ushered Jane inside.

They sat at the kitchen island quietly. Jane fidgeted a lot, per usual, and even paced more. She fed Bass a strawberry (he seemed to like Jane, and regularly came back out of his shell to see her) and squatted by the tortoise, stroking his head. There was no need for drinking, Maura thought, and Jane didn’t ask for a beer. The beer in the fridge was all the sort Jane preferred. “Why did you want me to go out to dinner with him?” asked Jane, petting Bass’ head.

“Because at one point in time, you were attracted to him, and I thought you’d enjoy yourself.” Maura frowned, “Clearly not, however. I apologize.”

Jane groaned, which startled Bass. “Sorry, buddy,” she said to the animal, and then stood up. “Maur, it was … horrible. Every time I see him, I think about Hoyt. I don’t need that in my life.”

Maura processed that. She knew Jane had only met Agent Dean in the most recent Hoyt altercations. While the attack predated Maura’s installation in Boston, Maura was familiar with the story. It was far more likely Jane would have associated Korsak or even Maura with Hoyt, as they had both seen Jane at her most vulnerable. Maura reached across the island and put her hand on Jane’s. Her fingers touched the scar on the back of Jane’s hand, giving pause to whatever Jane was about to say.

Right away, Jane tried to yank her hand away, but Maura held it firmly. She came around the corner of the table and turned Jane’s hand over, holding it with both of her own hands. Carefully, Maura ran her thumb over Jane’s palm, then the fingers. “Do you still play piano?”

The hand twitched again. “No. I … I don’t play anymore.”

Maura squeezed the hand, looping her fingers through Jane’s. “You don’t think about Hoyt when you see Korsak.”

“No, I don’t,” agreed Jane, her voice quiet.

“And you don’t think of him when you see me.”

Jane’s voice was even more quiet. “No.” A whisper.

“So that’s not really why you didn’t want to go out with Agent Dean.” This time Jane’s mouth opened to say no, but there was no sound. “Why did you kiss him?”

It took Jane a while to verbalize her response. “Because … I wanted to know.” Part of Maura’s brain felt sorry for Greg Dean. He was Jane’s experiment, not Maura. “I don’t know if I’m gay, Maur,” breathed Jane. “But I know I’d rather be with you than anyone else.”

Maura smiled. “Maybe we should formalize our arrangement, then, Jane. Are we friends with benefits, or are we dating?” Jane looked stricken and confused. “We don’t need to answer that right now,” assured Maura, tugging Jane’s arm. “Right now you’re still sleep deprived and have been under a great deal of stress. You need to sleep.”

There was no argument, and Jane was lightly asleep in Maura’s arms mere moments after they settled in bed. Maura stayed awake for a while, watching the stress slowly fade from Jane’s face. She caressed Jane’s hair, stroking it in what she hoped was a soothing manner. Jane’s breathing deepened and slowed, and Maura felt her limbs relax.

Jane had kissed Dean and ran to Maura’s arms. It wasn’t perfect, but it was comforting.

* * *

For the first time in her life, Jane understood what it was like to be in love, and to be Italian. In fact, she was pretty sure she knew what it was like to be a mother. “I’ll get you whatever you want.” She didn’t care if it was illegal, immoral, or anything like that. She wanted Maura back, alive, safe and sound. To hear Maura’s strained voice on the other end of the phone sent shivers of relief down Jane’s spine, and she’d rushed out of the precinct so fast, she forgot her jacket and purse.

Thankfully her keys had been in her pocket, and she probably broke a few laws rushing to her apartment, where Maura was already seated, on the couch, looking pained. “I let myself in,” Maura said, her voice tiny and childlike.

Fear spurred Jane to close and lock the door. “Are you okay?” Jane asked, desperately, hovering around Maura for a moment before sitting on the coffee table and taking her hands.

Maura squeezed Jane’s hands, nodding. “He had photos of me,” she said, as if in a daze. “School photos, public events, he even had my cotillion!”

Admittedly, Jane only had a passing idea of what cotillion was, but she didn’t press that. “He followed you?”

“It’s unnerving, isn’t it?”

“God, Maur, it’s horribly creepy,” exclaimed Jane, squeezing Maura’s hands again. Maura flinched a little and Jane looked down. There were red marks on her wrists. “What did he do to you?” snapped Jane, her voice grating more than normal.

Maura looked at her wrists in surprise. “Oh. He … His …” She stalled on the word.

“Goons.”

That word caused Maura to pause, but she accepted it. “His goons tied me up in the back of his van.” Jane stiffened, and Maura was quick to add, “They didn’t hurt me! They just … They tied me up to keep me quiet.”

The back of Jane’s brain filed that away for later, though the connotations of being tied up would, forever, be related to kidnappings and worse. Jane’s hands immediately started to ache. Definitely it was in her head. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

At first, Maura nodded. Then she started to sniffle, and Jane was off the table like a rocket and sat next to Maura. She wrapped her arms around Maura, pulling her close, and to her relief, Maura all but fell against her. For a little while, Jane just held her while Maura was shaking in silent tears, gently stroking Maura’s hair. Then, finally, Maura inhaled deeply and her body relaxed. “I was really mad at him,” she whispered into Jane’s shoulder. “I shouted at him.”

Jane smiled at the thought of Maura shouting at a mob hit man. “I bet you scared him.”

“He said I was like my mother.” Then and there, Jane’s brain stopped. “He wouldn’t tell me who she is. But that it’s better this way,” Maura didn’t even try to keep the forlorn tone out of her voice.

You really couldn’t pick your family. “If you want, we can look for your mother.” After all, Korsak and Frost would jump in to help. They could find her.

Silence. “No,” sighed Maura. “I have a mother and a father.” Perhaps she would have said something more, but her stomach growled.

That was something Jane could handle, and she kissed Maura’s head. “You wash your face, I’ll make you something to eat. And tell Korsak and Frost to stop worrying.”

The rest of the night end up carrying into the next day, before they were able to actually relax. And even then, the tortuous wonder of who had called Doyle hung between them. Maura asked her not to call, and Jane swore she didn’t, which was true. She had mentioned to Korsak and Frost, of course, exactly what was going on, before handing the phone over to the crime lab, but she had not called Doyle or anyone outside the force.

Finally, Jane convinced Maura that cereal was not a balanced meal. An odd turn of events for them. “Fine,” snapped Maura, strung out to her let nerve. “If I eat dinner will you leave me alone?”

“Well … No,” Jane replied. “Please, Maura, let me take care of you,” she said softly. They were alone in the parking lot.

Maura wilted a little. “Jane. I just want to go home and sleep.”

“How about you go home, and I’ll bring you something.” Her need to just do something, anything, even as banal an idea as bringing food, was absolute. And thankfully, Maura agreed. As soon as she drove out, Jane whipped out her phone. “Ma! Tell me you have some leftovers in the freezer I can steal for Maura?”

“What’s wrong with Maura? Janie did you two have a fight?”

Jane’s heart skipped a beat. No, her mother didn’t know. Yet. That was something to face tomorrow. “She … It was a really bad day at work. She needs comfort food.”

Angela Rizzoli was silent for a moment. Once, just once, Korsak had joked that Jane was such a good detective because of her mother. It had a grounding in truth. “I have some of that ravioli she liked. And the chicken a’la Rizzoli.” The topic of food, thankfully, distracted her mother, and Jane requisitioned a veritable feast from her mother, and promised to be there in half an hour.

It was a mad scramble to get home, shower, change, walk Jo, and pile everyone into the car to get to the house. Of course it had been more than half an hour. While she was sure Maura would enjoy the visual of Jane hopping around her apartment on one foot, all she told her mother was, “I know, I’m late.”

Jo yipped and ran into the house, happy to see the comfortable Rizzoli home. “You’re not bringing the dog to Maura’s,” chastised Angela, her voice shrill.

“Well … Probably? I mean, I might spend the night.”

Frowning, Angela took the leash from Jane. “Jo can stay here.”

“Ma, its okay. Jo comes over with me all the time.”

Her mother did not miss the connection. “How often are you over at Maura’s?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Couple times a week,” muttered Jane.

Angela frowned again, studying her daughter’s face until Jane started sweating. “You wanna tell me anything, Janie?” Detective Angela Rizzoli was on the case.

Hell no. “Not right now, Ma,” she temporized.

“But there is something to tell?” Before Jane could argue, Angela hustled into the kitchen. “Not yet, not yet. You can tell me anything, Janie!” Somehow her mother managed to pick up on Jane’s discomfort, and simply plied her down with the best of the leftovers. “Now go take care of that girl. And maybe if you paid attention, you could cook for her yourself.”

Why everyone assumed Jane couldn’t cook was a mystery. She could. She didn’t like to, was all. Even Maura felt she couldn’t cook, and Jane let it go. Especially today. Today was a day for comfort food, and if Ma’s home cooking didn’t fit that bill then there was no hope for Maura, and less for whatever their relationship was. And they needed to talk about that. They kept putting it off.

By the time Jane got to Maura’s, the other woman had showered and changed and was wrapped up in a robe on her couch, with a concerned Bass looking up at her. “That’s not takeout,” Maura said, looking concerned at the tupperware. “You didn’t raid your freezer, did you?”

“Nope, I raided Ma’s, who says she hopes you have a better day tomorrow.” Jane paused to pat Bass’s shell and kiss Maura’s forehead before descending on the kitchen in force. Her mother had left strict directions on how to re-heat, but Jane was already an expert at that. She’d been living on her mother’s leftovers for years, after all.

“You told your mother?” The concern in Maura’s voice was near panic.

“I told her you had a bad day,” soothed Jane. “That’s it.” She paused. “Well, I may have mentioned something about us.” Jane dared a glance over at Maura, who looked stunned.

Determined not to babble, Jane didn’t say anything else about it, and dished out the heartiest of her mother’s food into two of Maura’s flattest bowls. Instead of alcohol, Jane poured pomegranate juice, bringing it all over on a try. Maura didn’t say anything, but Jane could see her clenched jaw. Trusting in her mother’s cooking, Jane waited it out, and was rewarded with the expected outcome of eating food cooked with love. Maura started to relax. “Jane, why did you tell your mother about us today?” she asked, with her usual tone of weariness.

Jane swallowed her bite of her mother’s chicken and parmesan. “It came up. She wanted to know how often I was over here.”

It was fun to watch Maura start to do the math on how often one or the other was at the other’s place. She started to blush and pulled her knees up on the couch. “Does she know…?”

Good question. “I don’t know. I didn’t say ‘Hey, Ma, Maura and I are having sex. Can I have some leftovers.’ y’know?” The attempt at comedy worked and Maura giggled. Jane repeated the conversation, near word for word, and Maura giggled even more.

“Your mother’s very smart,” smiled Maura, her body relaxing. “And her cooking is amazing.” Maura launched into a near dissertation of Italian cooking, based on regional styles and influences. Like did Jane know that the most common style of cooking Italian food in Boston was heavily influenced by the Irish? Jane settled back in the couch and let Maura run herself down, not interrupting for the world.

Once Maura was done, Jane smiled. “You look better.”

“I feel better,” she said, surprised. “Thank you.” Jane smiled and was startled some when Maura leant forward and kissed her. It wasn’t a romantic, sexy time, kiss, just a casual kiss. The kind Jane saw her parent’s share every time she saw them. “I was afraid my … Doyle would find out about you.”

Jane took Maura’s hands. “Even if he does, he’s gotta know I’d do anything to save you, Maur.” While Maura had said getting someone killed wasn’t Jane, the truth was she’d kill everyone and anyone to protect her. Which was terrifying. “I love you, Maura. I’m not afraid of Paddy Doyle.”

Right away, Maura’s eyes started to water. On review, Jane decided that her words would be more effective when said to Korsak, but it seemed to make Maura understand. “It changes everything.”

“Not to me,” Jane said, firmly. “You are Maura Isles, chief medical examiner, Google-mouthing, fancy shoe wearing, smarter than anyone I know. You got up and yelled in the face of Boston’s most notorious hit man, and didn’t let him stop you from doing your job. I mean, damn, Maura, that’s intense!”

Jane pulled Maura into a tight hug, which kicked off the crying all over again. It was an emotional toll, and Jane was glad to be there. Payback for Maura helping her through Hoyt. Returning the favor, perhaps. Jane stroked Maura’s hair and just waited till she wore herself out. It was one of those things Jane knew would take a while to wind down and relax, so she carefully eased herself back against the corner of the couch, keeping Maura on her, and got comfy.

Time passed. Jane tried to think of all the ways her life was different now, better by far, as she had someone who took care of her, and she could take care of. This was exactly what her mother was always on her about. Find someone nice, someone who wanted to be there, and settle. She wasn’t settling with Maura. Life was much the same as it had been for months.

“What’re you thinking?” asked Maura, softly, her voice worn out.

“It’s been a hell of a spring and summer,” Jane replied, reflexively. “Hoyt, Boston Strangler, voodoo, college kids, the marathon, more Hoyt, and now this?”

Maura snuggled against Jane’s chest. “You forgot the Merch.”

Her weight was comforting. “I don’t think that’s possible, Maur,” Jane chuckled and kissed her head. “I mean, you practically shoved your boobs in my face.”

Stiffening a bit, Maura was defensive. “I was a waitress at a lesbian bar. I was supposed to be sexy and flirtatious.”

“Did I mention they’re great breasts? Nice and round. Full.” Jane leant her head back. “I mean, I don’t have much to compare them to.”

With her head basically on them, Maura sighed against Jane’s breasts. “Yours are very nice. You just have a lower fat ratio than most women. Probably a higher metabolism, which counters your abysmal eating habits and –” she stopped abruptly. “I find you physically attractive.”

Yeah, that was Maura. Jane just grinned at her. “Feeling better?” For a reply, Maura just made a catlike sound of contentment. “How about we get some sleep?”

“We should clean up,” sighed Maura, and she pushed herself up.

Tired as she was, it was easy for Jane to steer Maura down to the bedroom, hitting the lights on the way. “Come on, its not like Bass is gonna get on the table and eat your leftovers. I’ll get it in the morning.” Eventually she talked Maura into bed, and the doctor fell asleep quickly.

* * *

This was Maura’s nightmare.

When she had first heard the phrase “a magical summer,” Maura had rolled her eyes and signed up for extra classes. It was in college, where people were returning home from their first summer as perceived adults, finding lost connections with friends they’d not seen since leaving high school, and trying to fit in back at home. Maura, who had gone to boarding school much of her life, saw no benefit in returning home, and had informed her parents she intended to take extra classes. The decision had been a perfect solution to the uncomfortable living situation she anticipated.

This year’s summer had been, however, magical. It would pain Maura to say it, so as she looked at Bass she simply though to herself how very pleased she was with the way life had worked out. Silent as ever, Bass munched on his lettuce while Maura bustled about the house preparatory to work. Or rather he should have been eating his lettuce. The limp leaf in his dish was from last night, untouched, and the fresh one seemed uninteresting to him. Maura was a medical examiner, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know how to diagnose the most common ailments in tortoises. After all, what responsible pet owner didn’t learn how to care for their beloved animals?

Even Jane knew how to care for Jo Friday and little Watson.

Sighing as she squatted by Bass’ shell, Maura reflected on the summer. There was a great deal of her past that had come back to haunt her, from Garrett to her biological father. Surrounding it all was the curious protection of Jane Rizzoli. They still had not codified or defined their relationship status, save Jane’s passing comment of informing her mother she was refusing to go on any dates until further notice, so would she knock it off? Curiously, Angela had acquiesced, making Maura wonder exactly what Jane had told her a few days ago.

Too many things revolved around Jane. She was heart-breaking, breath-taking, gorgeous, tough and brave. She dragged Maura out of the morgue as often as possible, including her on many of the Homicide Department’s team building activities. And then there were their extra curriculars, as Jane put it.

Was that all Maura was? An extra piece of entertainment? A passing hobby? It certainly didn’t feel that way when Jane announced she would do anything to get Maura back from her father. Even take on the mob. That had also included Jane making a joke about how they were very West Side Story. Maura was a little surprised that Jane made the star crossed lovers connection.

Bass’s lack of eating recaptured Maura’s attention. Desperate, Maura tried for some bok choy, but Bass sighed and ignored it. Her mind went into, as Jane would say, overdrive. It was still summer, which meant Bass was not yet ready to hibernate. It also meant he needed to be eating more, in order to acquire the body mass necessary for hibernation. Tortoises were not native to New England, nor were they particularly fond of the too-short spring and autumns.

Over the years, Maura had made changes to her living, in order to accommodate Bass. She kept her air conditioning fairly low, so that it was warm enough for him, and she kept her heat rather high in the winter for the same reason. Quite certain temperature and light were not the issue for his appetite loss, Maura went down the list. He had places to hide and enough room to roam. The south facing French Doors let in natural light from the patio, and Maura had many excursions in the back yard with Bass, much to Jane’s bemusement.

That meant the most likely causes were an illness or a disturbance. She apologized to her beloved Bass and went to get the thermometer. He was not pleased with her, but withstood the indignities. Thankfully, his temperature was normal. Which left only one likelihood.

The very idea that Jane and Jo might possibly cause Bass distress horrified her. Maura sat down next to Bass and looked at him, mournfully. The tortoise oozed towards her and put his shell against her leg. It was very obvious she loved Bass and he her, which made the concept of his discomfort mortifying. What was she to do, she asked herself. Even going over to Jane’s might be part of the problem. After all, it could be that he missed her. But logic reasserted itself. Maura would not prejudge a possible bloodstain, and similarly she shouldn’t prejudge her evidence, she told Bass, firmly. A day of not eating is not outside the norm for any animal.

She stayed home, alone, that night, telling Jane she had some paperwork to bring home. The detective looked slightly curious, but let it pass, saying she wanted to watch the game, and would be at her parents. For the next night, Maura simply said she was tired. Quickly, two days passed and Bass still did not eat. At a loss, Maura asked his caregiver to bring her to the office, but made sure to make time for her normal exercise routine with Jane. Her level of distraction could be measured when Jane asked her why she was staring at Chuck.

The absolute truth was that Chuck’s muscles reminded her of the cording on Bass’s neck. Which was embarrassing. So Maura again quoted science, which sufficiently distracted Jane. She couldn’t lie, but she didn’t have to tell the truth if she didn’t answer, now, did she? Maura regretted not being completely honest later that day. She ended up regretting a great deal about that day.

Knowing how panicked Jane was about Frankie, Maura should have known Jane would do something reckless and bold like that. Knowing how worried Jane was about Maura’s safety, she should have known Jane would do something that phenomenally stupid. If, as Jane once joked, she had a brain in her head, she would have radio’d Vince to tell him to tell Jane everyone was safe and okay. Then maybe Jane would have done something, anything, other than to shoot the man through herself.

That moment was going to live on and on in Maura’s nightmares. She could see Jane’s body, lifted off the ground from the transfer of momentum from the gun to her abdomen. The mathematical equation ran through Maura’s brain, unbidden, based on the gun, the bullet caliber, the angle, the distance. Her mind then started processing every single organ, placing them around the most probable trajectory, and determining which trauma had been introduced to her best friend.

Her lover. The woman she loved above all else, whom she had no ability to help or provide succor. She was no longer in control of her life.

This was now Maura’s nightmare.

* * *

This was Jane’s nightmare.

She was herself, but not herself. She was shorter, blonde, but she was still Jane Rizzoli. She wasn’t very likable. Her partner was neither Barry nor Vince, but someone else. Tom. Not Tommy, her brother, but more of a man. An annoying, arrogant, man. It was he who saved her from Hoyt, not Korsak. And then he was gone. Korsak was retired. Barry was there, but he wasn’t young.

Hoyt came back, and this time Jane shot him in the back. He would never walk in her dreams again. Maura was there, but she looked like the cute lab chick from some TV show that Jane and Maura had watched one night when neither of them could sleep. Maura wasn’t very nice, though. She didn’t like Jane, and her hair was black. Wasn’t this an episode of that forensic anthropologist’s show? Where she was a writer and she solved crimes with the FBI? Yeah, that show. It had a whole episode where everyone was different.

Thinking of the FBI was why Gabriel Dean was there, obviously. Ugh! Not Dean! She thought about Hoyt, but he didn’t come back. Dean did, and this time, when she went to the FBI offices with him, she slept with him. Bad Jane! Bad dream Jane! What the he’ll was wrong with her dream self? Waking up would be a good thing now, but every trick she knew to kick her ass awake failed. She even tried the things Maura told her about. Shout, kick, fall down, cry. Something to break the cycle.

The cycle ignored her, and merrily moved on to show her herself, married, pregnant. Her parents divorced, and her mother dressing like a tramp and finding comfort in Vince Korsak’s hairy chest oh my GOD brain, you need to stop doing these things to me, please wake up, please wake up!

None of this was right! Frankie wasn’t a Marine, her father never worked at Kinkos, Vince was never a rent-a-cop, Maura never slept with a priest — A priest? What in the world was wrong with her? Maura’s mother was a serial killer (okay, that part was believable) and she had a twin sister (now that was just trite). Of course, the idea of her, pregnant, kicking someone’s ass in court felt like her. Except for the pregnant part. So much was herself, only through the looking glass.

Life through a fun-house mirror. Her hands were still her hands, and the scars were still scars. That was the good thing about ugly scars: you couldn’t pretend they weren’t there. Instead of her indelible scars, her torment was a life she had no control over and a world that was not her own.

This was now Jane’s nightmare.


End file.
